To Those Left Behind
by Maiokoe
Summary: They never thought their lives would end up like this. Never considered the possibility. / My submissions for FT Angst Week 2016. NaLu GaLe Jerza Stingue Gruvia, some single character chapters. M for blood, violence, language (but nothing exceedingly graphic)
1. Bonus Day 1) Cross My Heart

A/N: FT doesn't belong to me, nor do I claim it does.

Yaaay for NaLu angst~

 **Day 1(Bonus): Cross my Heart**

* * *

"L-Luce..."

A wheezing gasp passed through her lips and Natsu stared down at his partner, eyes wide and breathing labored as adrenaline continued to pump through his veins, fear overriding everything. She smiled up at him, eyes nearly closed with the pain, lips stained red and teeth pink from the blood that continued to dribble down her chin. "N… na... su..."

"H-hey, hey now, shh, hey, you're alright, shh." Behind him, he heard Erza roar, her pain reaching across their battlefield, Gray far in-front of them, his magic flowing and strong, stronger then it'd ever been in their sparring matches. He supposed there was a good reason for him to let loose.

Holding tight to his shirt, Happy watched with lips pressed tight and tears streaking down his cheeks, reminded all too much of another time, years again, when they watched a familiar woman die right before them as well. "Wendy's on her way, j-just keep yo-your eyes open for me Luce, o-okay?" He managed a small smile, but he knew his voice cracked more than once. He just hoped she hadn't caught it.

Her lips twitched until a smile bloomed, small and painful, left eye closing briefly as her breathing stuttered. "A-ah—kay..."

"That's it, just breathe, Luce, okay?" His fingers twitched and he patted her hand stiffly, keeping her half sitting up as he held her. She sucked in a breath, lungs worked to take in and keep the arm, blood still flowing steadily from her side, pooling on the ground beneath them, her already ruined clothes stained even further, his pants nearly crimson.

"N-na... su... col—cold…"

"What? Cold? Luce, it's the middle of—No. _No_ , no, Lucy, Lucy, listen to me—listen to me, Lucy, Luce, hey, hey Luce, don't—no, don't close your eyes! Lucy, don't you close your eyes on me, Lucy, open your eyes!" He tightened his hold around her, panic welling in his throat as the blood never seemed to stop.

She was cold. Lucy, so warm and bright, was cold. Wrong.

"Erza!" His voice shifted in pitch, hitting a higher note than he thought possible. "Erza, where's Wendy?!"

"Ten minutes!" The woman screamed back, a flash of light surrounding her as her Black Wing Armor appeared. "Ten minutes, Natsu!"

"We don't—She's losing a lot of blood!" He was nearing hysterical, but Lucy raised a trembling hand and he caught it in his own. "Lucy, Luce, come on now, c-come on, Luce!" Was he crying? Were those tears he felt? Yeah, he remembered that feeling, warm but not helpful with the cold in his stomach. "Lucy, y-you can't fall asleep on me now... You promised, Luce... You promised we—we'd... You promised, Luce..." He was trembling, form shaking as he held her. He felt the blood sliding past his fingers as he pressed his hand against her side. She took in a sharp breath at the pressure and the heat.

Cauterize the wound. He could do that, right? That'd help, wouldn't it?

But the thought of his flames touching her, causing her more pain than she needed pulled something vile up to his throat, a sickening feeling rising.

Burn her flesh or watch her bleed out.

What would make her last the longest, last until Wendy finally made it?

"Erza?!" He let the heat growing in his skin die, turning his head to look for his comrade.

"Hold her, Natsu! Don't you let her go!" The woman ordered, as if Lucy could get up and walk away.

"Apply pressure, Natsu!" Gray yelled back. "I don't care if it hurts her, keep it up! Keep her breathing!"

He should be fighting. He should be helping to make it all clear, safe, so Wendy could get through. But the slight weight of her fingers wrapped around his told him he wasn't needed in this fight—his place was here, for better or for worse.

"Cross..." Natsu looked down at her, her brilliant eyes hazy and dim.

"Luce?" he questioned gently. Happy sobbed, burying his little face against her neck, nuzzling against her skin and begging her to just keep breathing—just hold on—keep fighting—stay with us Lucy, _please—_

" _Cross... cross my heart... and..."_

"No, none of that, Luce," Natsu scolded, remembering the little ditty and feeling it was not appropriate at this moment in time.

"H-hope to _diiiee—"_ A terrible gasp left her lips and her chest heaved. Her felt her heart beating so rapidly, lungs working to keep her breathing, despite the blood pumping steadily out of her, staining the ground and slowly killing her—despite his continuous pressure. Short, stuttered breaths later, she relaxed and his heart surged with hope. There was a light returning in her eyes, heartbeat slowing a bit as her breathing regulated. "Tho-though my lips are sealed and—and a promise is true," she huffed out, eyes fluttering open.

Poetry, he realized. She was reciting poetry. Good. Alright, if that's what kept her here, he'd listen to it all day, hell, he'd even listen to _Capricorn's_ , if that's what it took.

Glorious chocolate brown stared up at him, her lips stretching into a smile. He grinned back, tears making his sight blurred. "I—I won't break my word—my word to you."

A deep breath in on her part and he leaned down, exhaling against her cheeks, pressing his forehead to hers. "Love you, Luce," he stared down at her, tears falling and dripping onto her cheeks, gathering with the ones trailing down her skin.

He nearly saw the light glowing around her as she took another shaky breath in, chest filling with love as her eyes closed with her smile.

When a moment passed and she failed to breathe out, he heard something that shouldn't have been there. As the battle raged around them, swords and magic flying and the distant voice of Wendy shouting that she was coming—she was almost there— _just hold on Lucy—_

Natsu heard the lack of a heartbeat.


	2. Day 1- Silence

A/N: FT doesn't belong to me, nor do I claim it does.

Yaay for GaLe~

 **Day 1: Silence**

* * *

She stared ahead, straight at the wall. The man seated before her, just a little to her left, continued speaking, but his words fell on deaf ears.

He stopped after a few minutes and her eyes flicked briefly to him, watching as he watched her, blue eyes narrowed in intense concentration. She looked back at the wall, the pale beige the same as it had been the past three days.

Three days, locked away in this elegant prison. A job gone wrong, some might say.

A work-in-progress, she would argue. A work-in-progress. She would finish the job, she just needed to get it through these idiots' heads and she didn't have what they were looking for.

"Miss McGarden, let's just—"

"Redfox."

"Beg your pardon?" He looked amazed that she spoke, not seemingly interested in _what_ she spoke.

"You're wrong. It's Redfox." Caramel eyes flicked to him once more, her expression blank, verging on boredom, but eyes fierce.

The man tilted his head, apparently not understanding. She turned this time, facing the window and looking out at the manicured lawns of the manor she was held captive in. Some rich recluse built it, not wanting neighbors. Bought all the land around, a forest, and cleared some right in the center so he'd be totally alone—save, of-course, the ever faithful staff.

This man was one such staff. The _only_ one she'd seen, but she'd heard others. Knew there were others. She knew they were looking for something, information, knowledge (her specialty) but they couldn't read it.

It was her favorite kind of job. ' _Needed: Someone with extensive knowledge in history and ancient languages. In possession of a book that needs translated. 28,000 Jewel Reward'_

She thought she could do it alone—she _could_ do it alone, but she wasn't expecting the Dark Guild. It said she would meet at the client's house and she had teased Jet and Droy for wanting to come on such a small time job, teased them enough that they were pouting and blushing before finally conceding to that joint-mission she suggested (demanded) Gajeel to take. He didn't want to, but their mortgage wasn't going to pay itself and she was still trying to push her three favorite guys together to bond.

So. Here she was. Locked in a room, a Magic Restraint band around her wrist. It wasn't a collar, thank Mavis, but she was limited all the same. Not the same scale, but enough.

"Miss McGarden—"

" _Redfox."_ Goddamnit, she was proud of her name and she was not going to let them forget it.

She almost saw the lightbulb go off, heard his gasp. "I wasn't aware of your marriage. Congratulations," She turned her head, sending him an incredulous look. He blinked, then looked down quickly, seeming to collect himself. "M-Miss Redfox," she gave a curt nod, returning her eyes to the window. "Ah, Miss Redfox, please, we only need your assistance in this trivial, _trivial_ matter and then you're free to be on your way. We fully intend on compensating you for your services, I assure you."

But silence was his answer and he heaved out a heavy sigh, rising from his seat and stalking towards the door.

* * *

She stumbled, smacking hard into the wall and holding onto it as she leaned against it, trying to stay upright. She felt the warmth trickle down the side of her head, kept hazel eyes down, staring at the floor, lips pressed firmly shut.

"If you'd just _do yer job_ ," the man sneered, head tilted sharply to the side as he glared at her, "We wouldn't hafta hit ya!"

She refused, fingers curling against the plaster, hopefully leaving marks.

"Lady, I ain't gonna be nice about it if ya don't start workin'!" She set her jaw, refusing to look at him. "Just read the damn book! Translate it and you can be on yer merry fuckin' way!"

"Now, let's not get _too_ violent with the young lady," the butler tutted. The same man who'd been trying _nicely_ to convince her the past week was replaced with the leader of the Dark Guild after the owner of the house was starting to get annoyed with the lack of results.

Nine days.

She was supposed to be home five days ago. No doubt her boys were starting to get worried, but Gajeel would keep them in line for another three—then he himself would begin to get aggressive. The Guild hardly needed that, but they understood a Dragon Slayer's nature was a bit different when compared to, say, Alzak.

More animalistic. More aggressive. More _dangerous_.

But they wouldn't reach that point, not for another three days after the first stirrings of something possibly being wrong. She gave it another week before he started tracking a trail that was already cold. Then (and only then) would he enlist Natsu, the Slayer with the best nose out of them.

She wonders, though, if Natsu would be able to track her, given almost three weeks would have passed.

"You listenin' ta me?!" She gasped, fingers clawing at the hand around her throat as she was lifted easily up against the wall, blood streaking against the beige. The butler nearly keened at the sight, no doubt more concerned about the mess than her windpipe being crushed. "Get with it, Lady! I don't got all day, ya hear me?!"

"N-not—not like you'd get—fa-a-ar!" she spat out. His face, too close for her liking, was scrunched up in disgust, before he tossed her aside, petite body nearly sailing across the room to crumble against the carpet. Her fingers trembled as she raised them to her throat, poking around the tender skin—no doubt there'd be bruises. Perfect. Just what she needed.

"Listen here, Shirmp—" she glowered up at him, the name _not_ one to be spoken from his lips, "—Oi, don't you go lookin' at me like that!" A sharp kick to her ribs sent her back a foot and curling in on herself, gasping out. "I don't got no problem with hurtin' ya, ya understand? I could do this all day!" he crouched down, leaning over her and grabbing a fistful of cerulean hair, tugging her head up, the angle odd and painful. Tears pricked at her eyes as she glared up at him through narrow slits. He looked down at her for a moment, face blank of all expression, just watching."Yer such a tiny thing. How're you even strong enough to be a mage?"

"She's a letter mage, Levy McGarden—" she shot the butler a dark look "from Fairy Tail. One of the most renowned with languages. Part of Team Shadowgear."

"Ah, s'at explains it. Part of a team. Weakest one then. Eh, Fairy?"

"I'm the _leader_ ," Levy hissed as his hand tightened in her hair. She remembered another who thought her the weakest link—but by Gods, she showed him later with her work with runes. She remembered that look on his face, as he finally saw _her._

"S'at right? Well then. Best do yer _job_ then, eh, Fairy?" She took in a breath, nose scrunching as he pulled her a little closer, grinning at her, his eyes dark and wild.

She spit right in his face.

Her screams echoed for hours in the house, sobs forcing their way through her broken lips as blood pooled in the light carpet beneath her.

The staff continued on with their duties, closing their eyes when they passed by the door where it was the loudest, closing their ears to her pleas, ignoring his maniacal laughter as he inflicted more pain on the magic-less mage.

* * *

Gajeel stiffened up, back ramrod straight, head turning, eyes darting around as he took in the forest. Natsu, the ever faithful tracker that he was, stiffened as well, lips curling up and revealing sharp canines.

 _Blood._

Gajeel bolted, bursting through the forest, running until he shot out of the darkened cover, ignoring the elegant manor _suspiciously_ smack in the middle of the forest, coming to a halt when he heard short gasps on the breeze, stuttered and weak. Natsu skidded to a stop beside him, partially hunched over as their eyes glowed.

" _LEVY!"_

A grin pulled at her chapped lips. She huffed, one eye nearly shut from swelling, the other bruised and bloodshot. The dark master scowled out the window, zeroing in on something beyond the glass. "I-I… I _toold you…_ "

"Shut up!" She swayed, landing hard on the ground, coughing out blood, breathing labored. "I'm not done with you yet, Fairy! You ain't leaving 'til we get what we want!" He stomped hard on her leg and she keened, hearing the telltale snap of bone.

"I—I'm a mage!" she sobbed, broken and fractured ribs, some already in the process of healing, restricting her words. "Of Fairy Tail!"

"Shut up! Shut up, you bitch!" His hands closed around her neck once more, weeks of this becoming a pattern, the dark bruises a testament to his rage.

26 days. Almost an entire month.

What little weight she had dropped drastically, form weak, ribs prominent. She'd been given only the minimum to keep her alive in this prison. Just enough to keep her conscious—enough so they could continue to beat her down until she finally cracked.

"Fuckin' _Fairy Tail!_ " He slammed her hard against the window, the glass cold beneath her, sight swimming as her head cracked against it. Spider webs inched around her, the glass beginning to give. "Damn it all! This was supposa ta be _easy!_ You were supposa ta be _weak!_ " He pulled her back, small fingers trembling weakly on his hands, her breaths near nonexistent. Dark eyes stared into her own hazy ones, rage swimming in his depths. " _I should just kill ya, yeah?"_ She took in another stuttered breath, feet inches off the ground. "That yer boyfriend? Bet it'd just _kill_ him, yeah?" She squeezed her eyes shut. "Cut ya open, let ya bleed out?" Her fingernails scraped against his skin weakly. "But yer a pretty thing, when yer not all bruised up. Tiny. Betcha make the most interesting sou—"

He wasn't expecting her headbutt.

But she wasn't expecting him to slam her against the window again, the spider cracks spiraling out as the glass shattered and he let go, grin manic.


	3. Day 2- Spellbound

A/N: FT doesn't belong to me, nor do I claim it does.

Jerza~ Slight AU. There's magic, but I'm picturing more of a fantasy scene then Fairy Tail.

 **Day 2: Spellbound**

* * *

" _Jellal…"_ He smiled up at the woman, fingers reaching up to brush through her hair. She smiled back, face shadowed by scarlet hair as she took hold of his hand, clasping it between her own and resting them gently on his chest. " _Rest. You need to rest…"_ He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply, smile still on his lips.

Erza watched him, tears falling freely down her cheeks as her magic went to work, a golden glow surrounding her lover and helping him to sleep. "Erza, there are others that need—"

"Not now, Lucy," Mira whispered, pulling the blonde away before she caught sight of the scene. "She's helping another right now."

But Lucy had seen. She'd seen the man lying on the bed, blood soaking down into the sheets and mattress, his entire right side torn and mangled, arm gone. She sucked down a breath, recognizing the man. Mira swallowed, pulling the woman closer just as the first sob escaped her. "H-he—!"

"Shh, Erza's with him," Mira murmured, stroking her hair. "She'll help him on his way…"

And she was doing just that, her magic soothing the burns and taking away his pain, letting him drift off to a peaceful sleep.

An eternal sleep.

She held tight to his good hand, bowed over his form, sobbing quietly as the gold glittered around her, his breathing evening out, slowing. "Jellal…!"

" _Erza."_ She looked up through watery eyes, gazing at him as he pried open his own, gazing back at her with such love. " _So beautiful…"_ She choked down her sob, raising his hand to hold it against her cheek, kissing his skin.

She didn't have much time now. If it hadn't been for the Medical Corps, he wouldn't have made it back to her, but nothing could save him now, not all the magic in the world. They could do what they could to ease his pain, but she decided she would do it, not let another slip him into that deep slumber. She was his and he was hers. It wouldn't be right otherwise.

"Je-Jellal… I love you… I love you—so much!" she nearly collapsed on him, but held herself up at the last moment, holding onto his hand as if her life depended on it. In this case, it very nearly did.

They finally found each other, separated years ago and roaming to separate parts of the realm, carrying out their Kings' Wills, tearing them further apart. And it was only thanks to Providence that they were together in this united force—together again.

And she was losing him.

Jellal's brows furrowed before smoothing, sleep pulling at him, easing him into that peaceful death.

" _I love you too, Erza. Marry me, when this is all over and we're home,"_ he raised his hand once again, fingers running through her loose hair, her smile still so beautiful in his dream. " _There's a house, back near Magnolia,"_ he breathed, heart beginning to slow, breath deepening. " _Right… next to a lake. The sunsets are… beautiful. Like you. Marry me, Erza. Will you?"_

And as he breathed for the final time, Erza's magic pulsed out in her grief, covering everything and everyone in golden sparkles, sending the injured to a peaceful calm, their lives stable for the time being and all the workers pausing to stare up at the sky, tears in their eyes as they realized what this meant.

Before her stood Jellal's final piece of magic, his form, nearly translucent, gazed down at her with such love in his eyes. Transparent fingers reached out, the wind blowing against her skin and through her hair. She sobbed into her lover's chest, Mira and Lucy watching on as he leaned down, arms wrapped around her, a faint pressure on her skin.

" _Yes..."_


	4. Day 3- Family

A/N: FT doesn't belong to me, nor do I claim it does.

Some Stingue family fluff/angst for ya~

 **Day 3: Family**

* * *

 _It's all wrong,_ Yukino thought. _All of it._

"It—it's not _fa-fair…"_ she sobs, raising her hands up to cover her mouth, the tears slipping through her fingers. Beside her, Rufus raises an arm, pulling her into his side. She buries her face in his jacket, clinging to the material. On his other side, Orga stands there, stony-faced, his hands curled into tight fists, pressing deeply into his pockets.

She remembers when they brought the boy home, the child no more than seven, all wide-eyed and beaming, face aglow with his happiness, skipping along between the two Slayers.

All that color is gone now, form weak as sickness slowly steals him away.

" _We didn't mean to bring him back, but, well… He kinda followed us?" Sting rubbed at the back of his neck, shooting a glance to the boy hopping in-front of the counter, watching Minerva with wide eyes as she shot him flustered looks. "I mean, we heard him following us, yeah, and he was around when we were still back in town, but we didn't actually think he'd follow us all the way home?"_

" _Sting," Yukino begins, an edge to her voice. "You need to take him back. His mother might press charges." That was the last thing they needed, a kidnapping charge on their Guild Master._

" _See, thing is…" Sting was still rubbing his neck and Yukino pursed her lips. "He's all alone, Yukino."_

 _She didn't expect the serious look in his eyes._

" _He's…?" She looks again at the boy, Orga lifting him up to settle him on the stool, their God Slayer blinking down at the boy beaming up at him and thanking him (enthusiastically) for his help. Minerva nudges the plate closer to the boy and blushes when he thanks her too, all smiles and a missing front tooth. Rogue is beside him now, Frosch and Lector standing on the counter as the boy tucks in. "Oh…"_

 _He's small for a boy his age, looks too thin, now those bruises kinda make sense. A horrible, twisted kinda a sense._

" _So, we were wondering—"_

" _We?" Yukino furrows her brow. Sting makes a strangled kind of noise, a cross between a whine and a squeak, motioning weakly between himself and his partner. "Oh, you and Rogue-sama?"_

" _How come you don't call me '-sama' anymore, huh, Yukino?"_

" _Because she realizes you're secretly twelve," Rogue deadpans from a few feet away, chin propped up in his hand. Frosch raises a paw, chirping out a 'Fro thinks so too~!' and the boy laughs, crumbs dotting his cheeks, but his smile still so bright. "And yes, 'we', Yukino."_

" _Oh. What is it you need?"_

 _Sting swallows and looks to his best friend. Rogue looks back, his bangs pinned up in a messy poof. A single nod gives Sting the resolve to look back at their Celestial Mage. "Pa-paperwork, Yukino."_

" _Sting, you just got back. I'm not filing your report for you. And no, I'm not doing the other work that you neglected ei—"_

" _No, Yukino," Rogue interrupts gently, stepping off the stool and stealing closer, a hand touching Sting's elbow, steadying the uncharacteristically nervous Slayer. "Adoption papers."_

Minerva is seated closest on the left side of the boy's bed, her hand loosely holding his, her face an expressionless mask. She stares down at the prone form, pale skin against pristine white sheets.

She hates hospitals and knows he does too. But there's nothing they can do at this point, else she would have bullied her way through, scooped him up, and carried him home, where he could be more comfortable under his own green comforter and sheets dotted with cats.

But she knows it's here that he'll be the most comfortable. Where the doctors can get to him immediately, to ease all his pain.

Doesn't mean she has to like it though.

" _You're super awesome at cooking, Milady!" he chirped, shoving more of the pasta into his mouth. On either side of him, Sting and Rogue are eating, Sting much louder and more like their adopted son._

" _Don't talk with your mouth full, Ryald." She pins him with a severe look, hoping he's too terrified to notice her blush. Both he and Sting immediately duck down, mumbling out apologies, but Rogue raises a curious brow, lips quirking up. She pins him with a darker look, but the Shadow Slayer's lips curl into a smile instead. "I'm glad you like it," she sniffs, stepping away to hide back in the kitchen until she can control herself around the little boy._

" _Ne, Sting?" The blond looks over. "Does Milady like me?" (In the kitchen, Minerva squeaks and Yukino looks over in concern)._

" _Hm? Sure she does. Why?"_

" _She doesn't… really smile." Sting looks over his head in a panic, Rogue looking back at him equally surprised. "I should work on my manners… Maybe then she'll smile at me…"_

 _Sting is about ready to burst into tears or leap over the counter to shake the Territory Mage, but Yukino solves their problems by calling out for Ryald to come and help for a moment. The boy obeys, slipping off his stool and padding under the counter, slipping into the kitchen. Both Rogue and Sting (Sting nearly on top of his partner) as they lean over, watching through the swinging doors._

 _Minerva is kneeling down, hands on the boy's shoulders. They can see her cheeks are red and they can hear her stammering out apologies, that she didn't mean to hurt his feelings, she's just not good at showing her own feelings. They grin when Ryald pats her cheek and she's goes red. He smiles and says she looks really pretty when she smiles. Sting sniffs out a sob when Minerva scoops the boy into her arms, burying her face in his hair as she hugs him, their son laughing and pleased with himself—that he got a hug from Milady._

 _She smiles more when he's around, trying hard to get past all the walls she had built up over the years, the little boy helping her to tear them down._

Sting and Rogue sit on the other side of the bed, Rogue leaning heavily against the blond, his forehead pressed against Sting's shoulder, eyes closed. Sting, for his part, is hunched over, elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped in-front of his lips, watching and listening to the shallow breathing of their son.

 _Wendy and Porlyuscia, with assistance from Chelia, had joined them months ago, when Ryald first started getting weak. They didn't know what to do and the doctors in town hadn't been helpful. Sting had called Natsu, near in a panic, and Natsu had gathered up Wendy and the rest, Team Natsu making a quick detour to visit Sabertooth and figure out was wrong with the child._

 _Wendy stayed behind while they continued on to their job, the healer's brows furrowed and lips pressed together in a thin line._

 _She told them she recognized what was wrong with him, from the books she had read with Chelia as they studied—Chelia visiting the reclusive Dragon Lady to learn healing from her potions and herbs (Porlyusica stated she despised the loud pinkette, but Wendy knew she was fond of her, that Chelia was finding a new path since her magic was lost) but she cautioned them not to get too excited. She would need to recluse to come herself, to make sure she was right._

 _She made a call to Lucy after she learned a little more about the boys past and a few days later, Team Natsu returned, their pinket in a foul mood, Erza's expression stormy, and Lucy near murderous herself._

" _He showed his magic at a young age," Lucy whispered, voice almost inaudible as she struggled to control himself._

" _Ryald doesn't have magic," Rogue stated simply, a hand against the sleeping boy's back._

"' _Cuz they locked it away," Natsu snarled._

 _The aura from the Sabertooth Slayers was visible, darkness and light swirling together to create a murky grey. "_ _ **They what."**_

" _I thought I recognized it as Magic Deficiency Disease, but Ryald didn't show the typical symptoms that a mage would have," Wendy murmured, stepping forward to brush his bangs away from his face. "And the doctors couldn't figure anything out, so I guessed it was a magic thing." She raised her eyes, giving the Slayers just about the saddest look they'd ever seen the teen make. "But it makes sense then, if they sealed it away."_

" _It's been building up," Porlyusica sniffed from the small table, a foul smelling liquid in a bottle before her. "So much so that before you knew it, it was instead sapping away at him. Makarov could undo the seal—"_

" _Call Makarov then!" Sting clung tight to Rogue's hand, snarling._

" _Let me finish, Boy!" she snapped. Sting growled, but Rogue squeezed his hand, steadying him. "If we unleash it, with so much magic built up, it'd kill him." Sting jerked back. "I've never seen this myself, since people aren't stupid enough to seal away a person's essence," they knew then that she was angry. That people would seal away a part of the boy just because they didn't understand. "But I've heard of it. There have been ways to decrease the pressure, enough so we can unseal him without any damage, but I need more information, more ingredients. I knew of a doctor in Bosco who studied this."_

 _They all knew the stories of Bosco. Magic was frowned upon and mages were outcasts. It would make sense then that this was more common practice over there than it was in Fiore._

" _I don't want to send mages over there, but I have no choice in this matter," she huffed out, pulling out a pink liquid. "Wake him up, Boy. This should help with his fever."_

They had returned a few weeks later, a few books in their bags and several bottles of liquid.

But it wasn't to be. It'd been building up for almost two years, then another two as it began to reverse, stealing away his life. At this point, the only thing the potions would do was to help with his fevers and seizures. The Bosco doctor himself came, and expressed his regret that he could do nothing to help the child, nothing except help with the pain. Porlyusica nearly went after him with a broom, but Wendy and Chelia held her back while Rogue quietly thanked him for his help.

With both doctors, the seizures were kept to a minimum and the nausea was controlled to an extent.

Ryald might live to see nine, but that was still a year away, the last six months painful for him. His eighth birthday was spent in his room, too weak to get up and thank the Guild for his presents. Fairy Tail sent some of their own, Team Natsu coming to visit the child and try and cheer him up, but it still didn't stop the boy from crying into his pillow, upset he couldn't have cake and Minerva's cooking.

It killed them, honest it did. An eight-year-old dying because of prejudice from the village he came from and a faulty seal on his magic that was killing him. Jura himself was sending sanctions to the small town, forcing them to come to terms with the horror they inflicted on a _three-year-old_ ,for the injustice they dealt an orphan, and letting them know, in very plain terms, that their backwater ideals was going to cost Ryald his life.

Which brought them back to the hospital room, private and big enough for the several chairs when Guild members stopped by to visit.

Which brought them back to the group huddle around his bed, his breathing short and stuttered.

Which brought them back to reality.

 _Their son was dying and there was nothing they could do._


	5. Day 4- Smothered

A/N: FT doesn't belong to me, nor do I claim it does.

So. This one is purely Lucy.

 **Day 4: Smothered**

* * *

"Lucy! You look great!" The blonde grinned, waving back her thanks.

 _Stop lying._

"Wow, Lucy! You look so pretty!"

 _Am I trying too hard?_

"Ohhh~? Who're you dressin' up for, Lucy~? Special someone?" Cana cackled from across the room, lifting her mug and downing it. "Knock 'em dead!"

 _So I'm not pretty normally…?_

Natsu looked up from his dinner, chicken leg in his teeth. He blinked, shrugged, then went back to his food. Not an uncommon reaction—he wasn't exactly fashion forward and didn't understand the need for everyone to dress up and don make-up.

She told herself not to let it bother her. That was just Natsu, nothing more, nothing less. Besides, she wasn't much more than a pretty face and a nice body, right?

That's what everyone always told her, anyway. First it was the vicious other girls she had grown up with, all _proper young ladies_ , like herself. Then their brothers. Then their uncles and fathers, the single bachelors, the business associates, all _years_ older than herself.

Her fiancé, the one who was at-least thirty and definitely not her type. He liked how she was so pretty, so young, _such a lovely body_ and **so obedient.**

She thought running would mean freedom, a life much happier than the one she left behind, where she could be more than a pretty face and a nice body.

Where people would see her for her intelligence, her wit, _herself_.

It was worse.

Out in the world, surrounded by people who were much more blunt, women were more vicious, men leered more openly (some did a little more than that), but where she had made friends—at-least, she thought so. Were they just using her too? Because she was a pretty face?

Some were nice, but she could see it in their eyes, what they thought of her.

 _A ditzy blonde. Beautiful bombshell. Great model. Great_ _ **body**_ _. Not too smart, is she? Pity she has such a sharp tongue—_ _ **she'd be better if she was quiet.**_

She just couldn't be her, could she? All they saw was blonde hair and big brown eyes—the vision of innocence for their fantasies, or the vixen for their dreams.

She was neither; she was brilliant, she was strong, she was intelligent, she was independent.

Did _anyone_ see that?

No. They saw what they wanted of her.

Nothing more than a pretty face.

Generous chest, good hips, long legs, delicate hands.

She wasn't a person, not in their eyes, was she? She was a fantasy, an object, something to be leered at, catcalled, praised for all the wrong reasons.

But she liked the attention, she just wondered if was all real. Were they being honest, or did they want something in return for their words? A smile? A wave? A pose? A kiss?

Nothing was ever real for her.

"Lucy, are you daydreaming~?" She jerked, looking up and blinking rapidly at Happy, the blue Exceed snickering behind his paws. "Ohhh~? Dreaming about who would ever want to date you~? Silly Lucy!"

Ah. That's right. She forgot. Who'd want to date her? Lots of guys, sure, but they didn't want to date _her_. They wanted another notch under their belt, another _**conquest**_. Like all those other men surrounding her growing up, watching her grow and waiting for their chance—at-least they were willing to wait for her to be legal. Small miracles, right?

"Rude, cat." But there was no venom in her voice. She couldn't muster it up this time. She felt the tears though, the ones she usually kept locked up so well. "I'm going first. I'll see you guys tomorrow!" She brightened up— _all for show—_ and waved as she went.

She had wanted to stay longer. She wanted to see what others would say about her new dress, the one she bought just a few days ago and was waiting to wear. She wanted to hear the praise she was starved of as a child—the _honest_ praise. She wanted to feel pretty, feel good about herself and how she looked.

But was it honest, even here? Or was she just deluding herself again?

She was drowning again, but she kept her smile in place until she left the Guild, kept it pasted on until she was halfway home, walking down the cobblestones silently, head dropped forward. She could feel eyes on her from time to time, but she didn't look up, didn't want to see those stares again. She couldn't handle that, not right now.

 _I'm not pretty. (_ _ **You're right.)**_

 _Why are they always lying? (_ _ **Because they want something.)**_

 _Stop it. (_ _ **Never.)**_

 _I hate it._ _ **(Too bad.)**_

 _I hate you._ _ **(Deal with it.)**_

 _I hate_ _ **myself**_ _. (_ _ **Good.)**_

 _Why can't everyone just be honest? (_ _ **Because you're not worth it.)**_

 _Why can't they be kind?_ _ **(You're not worth their kindness.)**_

 _I'm not just a pretty face!_ _ **(That's all you are.)**_

 _I'm not just a nice body!_ _ **(Decent at best.)**_

 _I'm more than that!_ _ **(No you aren't.)**_

 _I'm smart!_ _ **(Are you?)**_

 _I'm strong!_ _ **(You're weak.)**_

 _I'm a mage of Fairy Tail!_ _ **(You're a disgrace to the Guild.)**_

 _I'm not a nuisance._ _ **(Then why couldn't they be bothered to ask you to stay?)**_

Lucy moved up the stairs, entering her apartment robotically, dropping her keys on her table as she closed the door, settling down on her bed and staring out at her apartment.

 _Why didn't they ask me to stay…?_

"Because I'm not important."

She knew these were bad thoughts, knew that thinking them, dwelling on them, wouldn't help her, but she couldn't handle it anymore. She wore a new dress and everyone made such a big deal, how nice she looked—did she look that horrible normally?

Why did they put up with her then? Why did she put up with them? Doesn't she deserve happiness? Why did no one ever stay? Why did everyone always leave her? Doesn't she deserve a happy ending, like everyone else seems to get?

No. She's just a pretty face. Nothing more.

A sob broke past her lips and she curled her legs to her chest, burying her face in her knees as she rocked back on her bed. It was very strong of her, crying because she didn't get attention, but on the other hand, she was just feeling so empty that a good cry would make her feel _something_.

And as she felt the sobs bubbling up and breaking free, she fell back, burying her face in her comforter, sobbing for her mother.

For her lost childhood.

For the father that never cared.

For the friends who always left.

For the love she would never receive.

For the curse that fate had dealt her.

Beauty lies within, right? And the good of heart would be rewarded?

 _So where was her happy ending?_


	6. Day 5- Past

A/N: FT doesn't belong to me, nor do I claim it does.

 **Day 5: Past**

* * *

He remembers being angry; at the old rustbucket, at the world, at himself, everything.

Sure, he probably wasn't the best kid out there, but was he that bad? That Metalicana left him, all by himself?

He could've done better. He could've _been_ better, but now he can't can he? No, because that _stupid_ dragon left him out in the middle of the mountains by himself, no goodbye, no nothing.

 _Nothing._

Metalicana's just gone.

Probably finally got fed up with him, like everyone else. He doesn't remember his parents, but he can guess that they finally got tired of him and left him out in the woods Metalicana says he found him in. done dealing with him and his face, as the iron-ass always reminded him.

But how pathetic does he have to be for a hard-ass, unsympathetic _dragon_ to take him in?

He must be some kinda cursed, that the only thing willing to take him in, care for him, is a dragon that told him time and time again that he didn't really care all that much for humans, he just felt bad for the little brat left wandering all alone in the woods. A child, cast out in the world, with nothing but the clothes on his back and a ratty gray blanket—it might have once been a pristine white, or a nice cream, but days of wandering rendered it unknowable.

He tries not to think about it, honest he does, but on those quiet nights where he just can't sleep and the moonlight is too bright and that silvery glow reflecting off his piercings reminds him _too damn much_ of the moonlight that always seemed to make the old iron dragon shine, he steps out, out into the night where his sobbing won't wake Pantherlily, where his partner won't hear him scream.

(Pantherlily is a light sleeper and always follows after him, just a few minutes behind. He watches as the Slayer throws himself into the forest, running full tilt and battering himself against rocks, trees, the cliffs outside Magnolia. Watches on in silence as the young man cries into the unforgiving darkness, screams out ' _why?'_ as if the stars will answer him. Waits for him to descend into quiet sobs, then heads back to their little home, pretending to be asleep when he returns, bruised and dirtied. Ignores the creaking as he goes to shower and then return to bed. He pretends because Gajeel needs him to pretend. Being confronted with his feelings and supposed 'weakness' won't help anyone. So Pantherlily follows, just to make sure he doesn't do something stupid, doesn't hurt himself too much.)

He knows he's in a better place now, now that he's joined Fairy Tail. He still sees them as a bunch of pansies and too cheerful and happy-go-lucky like the idiot Salamander, but he watches the pinket.

Igneel had told Natsu of guilds and Natsu sought one out, growing up surrounded by a family of his own making, despite his longing for his foster-father.

Gajeel had lashed out and grown up rough.

Had Metalicana known he would never amount to much? That he'd turn out so…

 _Wrong?_

Is that why he left? Because Gajeel was always a snarky little brat? Always talking back and fighting and growling just as much as his dragon did?

He'd been hurt, abandoned for the second time in his life, so he went down the wrong path. He joined Phantom Lord because they promised him a place, a place where he would be respected, where he had somewhere to return to. It was never anything as sappy as "Family," but it was somewhere where people knew him and sometimes asked about where he was going next, or where he just came back from.

Fairy Tail was so different, but he didn't expect that feeling of _belonging_ to well up inside him. He didn't want it to. He didn't need everyone to worry about him, didn't need to feel like they cared.

He didn't want to be attached. That was the only good thing about Phantom Lord.

If they left him behind, it wasn't anything personal. They just got a better gig somewhere else.

If he got attached and Fairy Tail left him, it wouldn't be because they got a better deal somewhere else.

If Fairy Tail kicked him out it wasn't because he failed a mission so fucking spectacularly.

If he was left alone again, it would be because of _him_. Because he just wasn't a good person. That he wasn't _worth it_.

Third time's the charm, right?


	7. Day 6- Nightmare

A/N: FT doesn't belong to me, nor do I claim it does.

I was too busy yesterday to post Day 5, so this here is a double update~

Kk, so, this is a Gruvia Tokyo Ghoul AU. So… It's gonna get a little messy. Nothing too graphic, but it _is_ the aftermath of an attack. Consider yourself warned.

 **Day 6: Nightmare**

* * *

He groaned, rolling over and burying his face into his pillow—correction, _her_ pillow. "Juvia?" He knew his voice was muffled from the feathers, but if she was home, she'd hear and be over in mere seconds.

But he heard nothing and hummed, huffing out a breath and pressing his face deeper into her pillow.

Odd. She didn't typically leave without waking him with kisses and assurances that she'd be back soon. He didn't remember her mentioning anything going on either. Maybe they ran out of milk again.

Another breath and he rolled over onto his back, gazing up at their ceiling. Their apartment was too quiet without her, too quiet without her movement, her humming, her noise. Not that quiet wasn't good, but it just meant he was alone; he'd been alone far too long in his life, which meant even those short intervals weren't fun, given all the memories that would surface without something to distract him.

But thinking made him recall that it'd been awhile since he last ate. He should probably do that soon, considering he'd have to travel a bit to get to the cliff, but he'd have to call up that idiot fiery bastard for a buddy (it was getting harder and harder to go around alone and at-least they could give the excuse of game night) so he could _probably_ wait another day or two…

But he wasn't feeling hungry? And what was that _delicious_ smell? Juvia's cooking never smelled _nearly_ as good as this, the fire alarm often alerting the rest of the building of her latest attempt, her tears and sobs pulling at all their hearts—but not enough to stop them from scolding her once again at 1 in the morning.

"Juvia?" He sat up, scratching at the back of his head and yawning slowly. It was maybe a few seconds of this, that something felt strange against his skin, almost like an itch, and he frowned, pulling his hand away. He stared down at the darkness around his fingers and staining up to his forearms, trying to figure out what it was—what it _had_ been. He raised his other arm, staring down at the similar coloring.

It took way to long for him to realize it was blood and recognize the metallic smell in their apartment.

It took him too long to recognize the darkness on the sheets around him, the trail leading out the door—

He lunged for the door, shoulder banging against the frame as he stumbled out of their room. "Juvia?!"

There was still silence and he realized what the smell was and as his stomach dropped and went cold. He crashed down the short hallway, closer and closer to the heart of the problem—

He fell to his knees when he reached the main room, blood-dried hands flying to cover his mouth, bile rising, the acid of his stomach burning as it came up, threatened to overwhelm him—

 _To remind him_. To remind him what he was. Of what he could do. Of the _monster_ he was.

He lurched to the side, eyes wide and horrified, retching into the kitchen trash can, watching as pink began to line the bottom, the smell enough to remind him of why they didn't eat human food. But, in this case, it wasn't his girlfriend's cooking that was poisoning him.

He pulled away, straightened as he took in the sight of his home.

Blood stained the wood of their living room, the former pale blue rug taking on pink where the scarlet pool had spread. The coffee table was in pieces, a pillow was ripped, the stuffing decorating the floor and couch like their own personal snow. The beige couch, a simple and sensible overstuffed piece of fluff, was sprayed with the same scarlet drops, already sunk in and near black.

The smell. God, the _smell_. What was before nearly the most enticing scent, was now dark, disgusting, _revolting—_

Blue hair, spread out like a halo, was peeking from behind the couch.

"Oh… Oh _God… Oh God… Juvia…!"_

He couldn't look. He couldn't look. He couldn't look. _He couldn't look. He couldn't look. He couldn't look._ _ **He couldn't look. He couldn't look. He couldn't—**_

A sob welled in his throat, bringing with it the rest of—

He hurled himself towards the trash can once more, retching what was left of his stomach, the blood on his hands mocking him, staring back at him, _accusing_ him—

"Ju-Juvia!" He crawled, on hands and knees, towards the living room, tears flowing from his eyes. A swipe across his lips brought away a faint trace of red and he dry heaved, nothing left in his stomach to bring up, but he choked all the same, trembling and shaking, now on the floor, curled on his side, pretending this wasn't happening, pretending that this wasn't real, pretending that this was all just a dream—

Yes. This was all a dream. A nightmare. A nightmare brought on from fear of his kind, fear he saw in everyone's eyes as the news showed some other attack, another killing, another _victim—_

Even his worst nightmares were never this cruel.

" _Gr…ay…sama…"_ He scrambled, nearly climbing over the couch, coming face-to-face with—

" _Juvia!"_ The wail was loud enough that his neighbors were probably going to start banging on his walls at some point, a warning before they started knocking on his door. But they weren't important, not in this moment, they weren't even making the top of his damn list of priorities right now. "Juvia, Juvia, no, no no no no no!" He slid down to her, cradling her form in his arms— _the same arms that had held her down just a few hours ago, the same arms that had pinned her, ignoring all her words, ignoring her, only focused on the smell, the smell, the_ _ **delicious smell of—**_ "J-juvia!" He didn't like to cry, tried to actively avoid it, but gazing down at her, staring down at the woman who'd stuck by him for _years_ , always smiling and bright and so damn happy, happy to see him, to cook for him (and he ate everything, damn his manners) to _talk_ with him, then finally date him when he scrambled through a rushed confession and this—this was how he repaid her?!

She was smiling, damn it, smiling at him, probably delusional due to the shock and blood loss. Blue eyes hazy and clouded over, cheeks stained with blood— _her blood_ , he realized, stomach beginning to heave once more—clothes torn and soaked with her blood, arm gone—

Her arm was gone. _Her fucking arm was gone. He took off her fucking_ _ **arm**_. _Oh God, he_ _ **ate—**_

He was trembling, he knew it. He knew it in how she herself was shaking finely, body limp. But she was still smiling. "Juvia… Juvia, I-I… I—I didn't—I didn't _mean_ —Oh, oh _God_ , your arm… Juvia, Juvia I—"

" _Shhh…"_ Her good hand reached up, fingers trembling as they ghosted on his cheek. "J-Juvia is—is o—okay," he stared down at her, disbelief in his eyes, still wide with horror. "B-but…" she took in a breath and he pulled her closer, holding her a little tighter, ignoring the blood and the torn flesh of her—"B-but Juvia—Juvia needs—needs to go the h-hospital."

"Right. Right, the hospital. Right. We'll—no, no, I—I can't, I—I can't, I didn't—" He couldn't control his breathing.

Juvia needed a hospital, _to only way to save her life_ , but he couldn't go, not like this, not covered in her blood, not with it smeared across his skin, not with what he did all the evidence they needed. But she _needed_ to go, no ifs, ands, or buts about it—

He needed to call someone. He needed to call someone _now_.

"C-call Gajee—kun," and almost as if she'd been following his inner crisis, she spoke, voice low and pained. Her eyes seemed to brighten, the conversation slowly bringing her back from the brink as she focused. "G-gray-sama needs—needs to call Gajee-kun _now_ …"

But with that focus, he saw the fear in her eyes.

The fear of _him_.


	8. Day 7- Fairy Tale

A/N: FT doesn't belong to me, nor do I claim it does.

Medieval AU NaLu. I would say fantasy, but I'm not including magic this time around.

Ahahaha, so, whoops, this is kinda late~

 **Day 7: Fairy Tale**

* * *

She had no happy ending.

She knew this, but she couldn't accept it. Not that she had much of a choice, but she liked to think she was independent.

But, she knew, right now, right this moment, right this _second_.

She had no happy ending.

She would be trapped, in a marriage neither of her own making or choosing, trapped marrying a man who didn't care for her, only for the kingdom she was destined to rule.

And she watched as the contract was signed—sealed and binding. They didn't need her approval or her signature, she was just a daughter.

But she watched as he stood by, watching it happen along with her.

She could do nothing. He could do nothing. She loved him, and he loved her, but he wasn't anyone of stature or value—at-least not to her father. He was the son of a fallen knight, but he had received no sponsor: he could never take up his father's rank and title, never inherit the lands that were lost with his father.

He was no one of value.

Her value wasn't by her own merit.

But she loved him and he loved her, but they both watched on as her life was signed away. They both watched as the happy story they had whispered to each other fell apart around them.

He would never become a knight. He would never win acclaim and glory. He would never fight for her hand.

She would never see his dream come true. She would never listen to his adventures. She would never become the wife of a knight.

Their worlds were too different, she to be Queen and he a servant. They would never cross paths ever again. From here on out, she was betrothed and if she ever snuck away and they were caught, he would be executed.

She had no happy ending.

Because her life wasn't one of the fairy tales she had been read as a child.

She would never be happy. She would never be loved. And she might just die before she held her firstborn, like her mother before her, and her mother before her.

It wouldn't be _his_ child, but a child of hers nonetheless.

But there are no happy endings. She should have grown out of her fairy stories long ago.


	9. Bonus Day 7) Dearly Departed

A/N: FT doesn't belong to me, nor do I claim it does.

And we're ending with NaLu. Sorry this is so late! But, this is a double update!

 **Day 7(Bonus): Dearly Departed**

* * *

"You know," Lucy mused, leaning back to stare up at the sky. It was a perfect blue, light and brilliant. Her favorite shade. The clouds were fluffy enough, but there was a tint of gray to them. She took in a slow breath, closing her eyes. "Mm, I think it might rain later… It kinda smells like a storm…" She settled back in the grass, hands braced behind her as she stared out at the forest far below the cliff's edge.

" _I miss you, Natsu,"_ she whispered, staring straight ahead, the trees beginning to blur to a simple dark green mass. "Everyone… Everyone says it'll get better, you know?" She sucked down a heavy breath, releasing it. "Give it time, you know? Just… Just give it time…"

The grass around her waved in the breeze, too long and nearly reaching her shoulder. But she loved watching it sway in the wind, like water rippling. It was a beautiful sight to her and when it turned golden, it reminded her of a long ago dream—where she awoke in a field of long golden grass, along, but not for long, turning and running towards the figure standing far off, his hand outstretched towards her…

"I just… I can't…" she raised a hand, rubbing harshly at her cheek with her palm, swiping away the few tears that had trickled out as her voice broke. "It's been—it's been so long, Natsu," she stammered out, bringing her other hand out now to press the heel of her palms under her eyes, closing them tightly and drawing her knees to her chest. "I-I can't— I don't—I don't think I remember what you even sound like!" she sobbed, curling herself up, tears flowing faster and faster, too quick for her to wipe them all away.

So she gave up, curling her arms around her legs and wailing into her knees.

After all these years, she was still surprised she was still able to cry.

"I-I-I _miss you!_ " she screamed out, voice rattling and echoing in the air around her, her voice broken and raw, her sobs loud and seemingly never-ending—they'd stop, in time, but for now, she could still cry. She could still grieve.

 _She could still feel._

"It—It—It was al-always so mu-u-u-uch more fun whe-whe-when we were together!"

 _I always had so much fun with you…_

 _I'm forgetting your voice…_

 _What shade was your hair…?_

 _I can't bear to go on jobs, not without you…_

 _Too many things remind me of you…_

 _Everything seems so…_ _ **quiet**_ _._

 _Everyone seems so…_ _ **quiet.**_

 _I can't stand silence anymore…_

 _I can't be alone anymore…_

 _Why did you have to leave me…?_

 _We're partners…_

 _I love you…_


End file.
